Another Destiny
by lunalumax292
Summary: Royal encounters of the lemony kind. PWP, basically.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Sarah awoke with a gasp and sat up straight, an unnamed danger hanging heavily in the atmosphere of her bedroom. She glanced around and shivered, her eyes searching blindly in the darkness for that which had awakened her. The digital clock on her nightstand read a little after midnight, and Sarah sighed. Her eighteenth birthday had dawned – figuratively speaking – and she was determined that it would pass like any other day.

It was then that she noticed that her room was unnaturally dark, pitch black and frightening, the air thick and tense.

Her eyes flickered towards her bedroom door and then her window; they were both closed, her window locked and bolted as it usually was. She shivered and pulled her knees up into her chest, wrapping her arms around them and biting her lip. For the first time in ten years, Sarah was afraid of the dark.

"You're being silly," she whispered to herself, valiantly trying to ignore the sense of foreboding that rolled in her stomach. "...'s probably just Jareth playing a little birthday trick." She scowled at the thought of him, of the man she constantly banished from her mind, of the name she refused to speak. She covered her mouth with her hand and looked around warily, half expecting him to materialize in a cloud of glitter.

"_Don't say his name!" Hoggle had warned her, once upon a time, "To say it is to invite him._"

She lay back down and took a calming breath, straining her ears for any out of place noises.

A hand grasped her wrist and she let out a startled scream as a gloved palm covered her mouth. She struggled against them, thrashing on her bed as more and more grabbed onto her, tugging her out of the assumed safety of her bed and dragging her towards her mirror.

She sank her teeth into the hand over mouth and relished in the angry hiss that accompanied the withdrawal of the offending object. "Get off of me!" she demanded imperiously, turning her head roughly from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of the faces of her kidnappers. "Let go!"

The hands tightened and Sarah let out a yelp of pain as nails bit into her skin. "You can't do this," she hissed at her captors, "You can't!"

Stilling her movements long enough to focus her eyes, Sarah saw a hand hover over the surface of her mirror, and disappear into it. A hand that was followed by another, and another, and then her feet went through, her legs, her torso; in the split second before her head passed through the portal, Sarah whispered his name again. "_Jareth_."

* * *

He wasn't sure what had awoken him. He climbed out of his bed and went to the window, his fierce eyes scanning over his sprawling kingdom, searching for the source of the disturbance. He frowned at the twisting in his chest and leaned against the window frame.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He could've sworn that it had been _her_ voice.

And then he heard it a second time, and was powerless to fight the pull that called him to her.

It took mere seconds and Jareth was standing in her bedroom. He glanced around and his eyes settled on the disturbed bedclothes, the pillow on the floor, the knocked over lamp on her nightstand. He took a deep breath and stiffened at the scent of magic hanging in the air, approaching the mirror and extending his arm. His fingers ghosted over the glass, and he pulled back his hand as if the surface had burned him.

"Where are you, Sarah?" he whispered into the darkness, "Where are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

"How go the preparations?"

Jareth looked up at his mother's voice and shrugged. "Well."

Mirielle frowned at her son. "You do not seem at all enthusiastic."

"Should I be?" Jareth asked her, sitting down in his chair and reaching for his goblet from the table.

"I would have thought you would have been looking forward to choosing a bride," she said pointedly, "Or had you forgotten our agreement?"

"How _could _I forget?"

Mirielle took a sip of her wine. "You will be pleased with my choices, I think."

"One can only hope," Jareth muttered, gazing blankly at the seating chart.

"And you will meet my heir tomorrow," his mother went on, "I shall introduce you to her."

Jareth rolled his eyes. "I fail to see how _I_ could not have been your heir – I am your son."

"You forget, dearest, that Fallonia is a matriarchal kingdom. There has always only been a Queen. Your father was never the king; he was my consort. And since we were only blessed with the one child," Mirielle looked over at her son and smiled fondly, "It was fitting that I should select a candidate myself, rather than have girls forced upon me from every corner of the kingdom. You will like her, Jareth; I am very fond of her, in spite of the concerns of others."

"Concerns?" Jareth asked, interested now in this girl he had never met, "Why should there be concerns?"

His mother flushed a little and looked away. "The girl was mortal, human, until she arrived in my lands."

"You chose a _mortal_ to be your _heir?_" Jareth's tone was incredulous and his mother bristled.

"As is my _right_," she snapped, "I am entitled to choose whomever I please. Besides, the girl has passed every challenge given her, solved every problem she has been presented with, and fully proven herself amongst the court. They have all sworn their allegiance to her – it is only the younger girls who whisper against her. She is strong and powerful: did I not know better I would think that she had been born to this life. She far surpasses my own magical talents – I have never seen anything like it. She will be well able to defend her claim to the throne if need be."

Jareth paled a little at the thought of a girl being more powerful than his mother, the Dowager High Queen of the Underground.

Mirielle went on, her eyes narrowing slyly at Jareth's reaction. "She is also one of your potential brides."

Intrigued by this, Jareth leaned forwards. "You would wed me to your heir? Give me power over your kingdom?"

Mirielle laughed a little. "Heavens, no; should you choose to marry the girl it would be her choice and hers _alone_ how much power to afford you in Fallonia." Seeing her son's calculating expression, she continued, "Of course, I shan't introduce you to the girl until you have informed me of your choice of bride, lest your decision making skills be affected by your zealous designs on my kingdom."

"Who will the crown of the High Queen fall to?" Jareth wondered, leaning back in his chair, "My bride, or your heir?"

"Your bride," His mother said with a sigh, "As is tradition. You are already the High King of the Underground, Jareth; my rights to the High Queen's crown are nil and have been for four centuries. My mother was the Queen of Fallonia, not the High Queen of the Underground. I was simply lucky enough to be chosen by your father as his bride. Your bride shall wear the crown. I will anoint her myself."

* * *

Sarah opened one eye and groaned at the light that flooded into her room. She sat up and rubbed her head, regretting now the amount of wine she'd consumed the previous day.

The Solstice festival was consuming the court; making their attire more provocative, their attitudes heavily influenced by the wine that flowed all too freely, their already-loose fae morals being altogether forgotten in the summer heat.

She blushed at the thought of some of the antics that had taken place. Skirts pulled to waists, breasts released from corsets, stocking-encased legs wrapped around silk breeches, heads thrown back, voices crying out with pleasure.

She'd been glad that the High Queen had kept her close. It wasn't that she wasn't comfortable with public displays of affection, no; it was that her virtue was to be protected and valued, used as a pawn in Mirielle's matchmaking, and it would do her no good to get caught up in courtly revels and throw away her innocence.

Sarah raised a hand in the direction of the curtains and twitched her fingers, smiling when they slid closed and blocked out the bright sunlight. She'd slept late and would have to commence getting ready for the ball soon, but she just couldn't bring herself to part with her luscious bed just yet.

She rolled over and toyed with her necklace, wincing when her chamber door was thrown unapologetically open.

"Good morning!" Mirielle called out, flicking her own fingers at the recently closed curtains and opening them. "Ah, still in bed at two in the afternoon - how noble of you."

Sarah blushed. "My apologies, my lady." She climbed out of bed and stretched, glancing warily at the sly smile on Mirielle's face. "Is there something wrong?" she asked her cautiously, tucking her hair behind her ears and biting her lip.

Mirielle's eyes narrowed. "No, no." She waved a hand carelessly in the air. "Now, come. You must eat something."

"I am very hungry," Sarah agreed, "And I have a bit of a headache."

"That will be all the wine," Mirielle said with a smirk, "Perhaps it would be wise not to consume so much tonight." A tray was wheeled in and set in front of Sarah, and Mirielle watched her with interest. "You will wear purple," the Queen went on, "And we'll dress your hair with diamonds and pearls."

Sarah nodded silently. _Purple._ Mirielle definitely wanted to make a subliminal statement before the announcement of Sarah's upcoming ascension to the throne.

"You will be a model of class and elegance," Mirielle continued, "You will dance and smile and be merry, and you will tell no-one of your status. _I _will announce your news after my son has announced his choice of bride."

"What if he chooses me?" Sarah murmured, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, "Will that change anything?"

Mirielle shook her head. "I have sworn that you will have the Fallonia crown after my death. The nobles have pledged their hearts and swords unto you. You_ will be_ the next Queen."

Sarah bit her lip. She had lost count of how long she'd been in the Underground for; she was certain that this was her second Solstice festival and she knew she'd spent three winters away from the Above, but she'd never attended an official function outside of Fallonia. She had yet to meet Mirielle's elusive royal son, and was nervous about the concept.

"I hope your son finds me agreeable," Sarah said quietly, fiddling with the hem of her nightgown and avoiding Mirielle's gaze.

Mirielle placed a hand under Sarah's chin and turned her face upwards. "He will love you," Mirielle promised, smiling a deviant smile.

* * *

Jareth took a deep drink of his champagne and sighed.

The women he had been introduced to thus far by his mother were all pretty in their own ways, all unusual and probably very interesting... but he just _wasn't_ interested about getting to know anyone who wanted to be his bride. The Sarah-shaped hole in his heart was too hard to fill, and he feared that his mother's quest to get him married before she abdicated would be a futile one.

That was until a beautiful fae woman with long black hair stalked past him, her purple tulle gown trailing along behind her. Her hair was pulled back from her face by pearl pins, but flowed down her back in a cascade of ebony curls, reaching her tiny waist. She wore a dainty mask that covered the upper half of her face, and he longed to remove it and gaze into her eyes.

His mouth went dry and he leaned forwards, her scent catching in his nose. It washed over him; a mouthwatering mixture of lilies, vanilla and a splash of cinnamon. There was something familiar about her, something in her scent which tugged at his heartstrings. His teeth ached with a longing to bury themselves in her flesh, his fingernails longed to rake bloody lines down her flawless back as she rode him, and he groaned at the images in his mind.

Unable to resist, Jareth followed her, his eyes focussed on the pale skin of her bare back. He wanted this woman, he realised with shock, he wanted to possess her heart and soul and body. He wanted to make her love him. He felt a twinge of guilt; it was the first time since Sarah that he'd felt such a desire, but he was powerless to it.

The agreement with his mother be damned; _this_ was the girl that he wanted.

He reached out and gently grasped her upper arm, turning her to face him.

The woman's emerald green eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "You," she breathed, "_You_."

"Me," Jareth replied easily, smiling at her adorable expression of awe. He clasped both of her hands within his. "Tell me; are you one of my mother's choices?"

She gaped at him for a moment and then her eyes flashed. "I am afraid that yes is the answer," she said in response, smiling at up at him. "But I must beg your Majesty to excuse me for a moment."

...

Sarah grabbed a full glass from the drinks table and gulped down the contents. She glanced around and sighed in relief when she saw that nobody had glimpsed her moment of weakness.

She placed down the glass and crossed the room, smiling back at those who gave her polite nods.

She had almost reached her destination when a gloved hand loosely gripped her upper arm: she froze, the soft touch all too familiar to her heated skin. She turned and gasped at the man stood before her.

Her lessons in courtly confidence flew from her mind and she gaped at him. "You. _You_."

All coherent thought died and Sarah felt her heart start to pound. Jareth grinned back at her - he, clearly, had no idea who she was. It was that which steeled her resolve, allowed her mind to start functioning properly again. His arrogance was almost unbearable, but he was still the same devastatingly beautiful man that he always had been.

Tall and lean, with sinewy muscles and a feline grace in his movements. The mismatched eyes which had haunted her thoughts. Long, leather encased fingers. Silken leggings clinging to his thighs, emphasising the size of his manhood. The poet's shirt, open halfway to his navel, revealing the chiselled pale skin of his chest. The hair; blonde and wild. His teeth pointed and sharp, like a predator's. The markings above his eyes - because _of course_ he would be much too special to wear a mask like everybody else - now matching her own.

Her lust glowed in her eyes; in that moment it was all she could do to keep herself from pouncing on him. She wasn't sure whether it was the magic in her blood, the fae within, or her own heart's desire, but she desperately wanted to claw off their clothes, climb atop him and claim him as her mate with a bite to his inner thigh.

_Definitely the fae within, then, _Sarah concluded with a flush.

"Me. Tell me; are you one of my mother's choices?" His expression was hopeful and longing, and Sarah smirked, regaining her senses wholly now. He wanted her back.

"I am afraid that yes is the answer," she replied, batting her eyes at him. "But I must beg your Majesty to excuse me for a moment."

"Of course," Jareth said with a smirk, one of his thumbs rubbing small circles into the back of her hand. Sarah blushed a little at the tender touch and gently removed her hands from his grasp.

She turned away from him, seething with the turn of events. _Of course_ Mirielle had known about their history, the woman was fucking omniscient.

Spying the offending female not three people away, Sarah stalked over to her. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" she hissed into her ear, all sense of propriety and respect momentarily lost in a cloud of rage. "Now." She looped her arm through Mirielle's and drew her away from the conversation, tugging her out of the ballroom and onto a balcony. She closed the curtains behind them, shutting them off from the rest of the room, and Mirielle frowned at Sarah's behaviour.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Sarah laughed in disbelief. "The _meaning_? The _meaning?! _Mirielle, I must apologise, because I have clearly underestimated your skills in manipulation."

"I beg your pardon?" Mirielle replied angrily, drawing herself up to her full height. "How _dare_ you speak to me this way? I am still your Queen, Sarah, regardless of any priveleges I have awarded you."

"_Priveleges?_" Sarah repeated incredulously, "_Priveleges?_ You call it a privelege to be dragged from your bed in the middle of the night _on your birthday_? To be taken to another plane of existence and told there is no way back? Do you call it a _privelege_ to be told that you're going to be a Queen? I never wanted any of this, Mirielle, you forced all of it upon me, and yet I never said a word against it. I sat back and allowed you to play God with my life, I even agreed to marry your fucking _son_ - who we'll come to in a minute - should you ever request it. And you might be the Queen, but it is I who holds the loyalty of your court, I am the one with the fealty of your people. Your subjects are loyal to _me_, Mirielle; you saw to that yourself. I am the Queen of your realm in all but name, so the only _real_ power you have here is your own name, your own magic and your son."

Mirielle opened and closed her mouth for a few moments and flushed. "Sarah..."

"No, I'm still talking," the younger girl went on furiously. "You turned me into a fae - without my consent, I might add - and fed me with your own magic. You kept me from the men in the court for fear of me falling in love and 'giving it all away'. You have controlled my life for the past two and a half years and I am _sick of it_."

"You're right," Mirielle said softly, looking away from Sarah's angry gaze, "Of course you are right."

"And _then_, to top it all off, you bring me to a masked ball held in honour of your son, and _forget _to mention that your son is the _Goblin King._ The _same_ Goblin King who I defeated - by myself - at the age of fifteen. You wanted to dangle me in front of your son's eyes like a piece of meat and offer me up on a platter. What was it, Mirielle; revenge against the girl who beat your little boy? Or did you want to use me to get a hold on his kingdom? Did you want to get me into his bed so you could control him, is that it?"

"_No_!" Mirielle cried, finally having heard enough. "I will not hear this, Sarah. You are wrong."

Sarah scoffed and narrowed her eyes. "Do tell."

"Time works differently in the Above. You defeated the Goblin King at the age of fifteen - my forces brought you back when you were eighteen. What seemed like three years to you in the Above was actually thirty years to us in the Under. Jareth has pined for you for _thirty_ _years_. I could not see my son suffer any longer."

"And what about me?" Sarah hissed, "What about _my _right to a choice?"

"You have been given near-immortality, magic and a crown. What _else_ could you possibly want?" Mirielle scoffed.

"A _choice_!" Sarah cried, "I want someone to go back in time and _a__sk _me what _I _wanted! You know, I missed him too," she admitted quietly, "I turned him down out of duty to my brother, not because I didn't love him. If you had _asked _me... I might have come anyway. But you didn't _ask - _you _took._"

"He searched for you," Mirielle interjected softly, "When you were taken. He searched for you."

Sarah shook her head and brushed off Mirielle's comment. "You will announce your abdication and name me as your successor," she instructed, her green eyes narrow and glowing with barely contained rage. "You owe me that much. You brought me here because you wanted me to fall in love with your son, marry him and so join the kingdom of your family with the kingdom of his without a thought for me, my life Above or my own personal choice. And _I _will deal with Jareth - I don't want you to do any more meddling. You owe me at least what I was promised."

Mirielle's hands shook. Sarah spoke the truth, and now that the Dowager High Queen could see just how angry the situation had made her powerful little protégé, she was really quite afraid of her. She was fond of Sarah, thought of her as an adopted daughter, and so mixed with the fear was a tremendous sense of guilt. "It is not the time..."

"You will announce it _now." _

Mirielle nodded wordlessly and swept open the curtain. Sarah gestured that Mirielle should walk through first, not wanting to leave her back exposed to her predecessor.

...

Jareth spied his mother re-enter the ballroom with the beautiful woman in the purple gown and immediately commanded her attention.

"I have made my choice."

Mirielle smiled at him and reached up to cup his face in her palm. "I know."

"The purple gown," Jareth told her softly, "With the dark hair."

"You don't even know her name," she chided her son, and Jareth laughed.

"I don't need to know her name to want her. Before you, mother, I pledge my heart, sword and troth to her," Jareth said vehemently, his fae brain clouded with lust and a desire to claim.

"You must cherish her," Mirielle whispered, "She is precious to me."

...

Mirielle walked straight to the stage, smiling sadly at those who curtsied in their deference, and elegantly climbed the steps.

Once at the top, she caught the attention of the fae gathered in the room and sighed. _"My friends; forgive me for the interupption, but I have two important announcements to make that cannot wait."_

...

Sarah stood off to one side, watching as Jareth spoke to his mother. Her fae eyes made out the words that were said and she smirked at the lust in Jareth's eyes.

As Mirielle approached the stage, Sarah was drawn away from the crowds by gloved hands. She felt a body press up against her and shivered at the feel of his hair trailing on her skin.

"We are to marry," a familiar voice purred in her ear. "My apologies for not formally asking for your hand."

Sarah turned in his arms and looked up at him from under her lashes. She only had to wait until after the announcement of her ascension and then she could take off her mask and reveal herself to him. "You are forgiven, I suppose," she replied huskily, her fingers ghosting a path down his chest. Jareth inhaled sharply as one of her nails lightly grazed his nipple.

"There are worse fates than to be married to a King," Jareth murmured, pressing her against a marble column. "Is it so terrible to be betrothed to me?"

Sarah licked her lips, her eyes subconsciously flickering to his mouth. She traced her hands down his frame, unable to resist his pull. "No," she admitted coyly, "I imagine it could be quite a _pleasurable_ experience."

Jareth's gaze was fixed on her lips, on the way her mouth wrapped around the words, the way her lips almost brushed against his when she spoke. His mind was reeling; he felt he knew her from somewhere, was almost certain of it. He swallowed thickly. "Have we met before?"

Biting her lip, Sarah tilted her head and looked up at him. "Perhaps in a dream," she murmured, holding his eyes for a moment longer before sliding out from the pillar and walking back to the main room.

...

_"My friends; forgive me for the interupption, but I have two important announcements to make that cannot wait."_

Sarah glanced up towards the stage and took a deep breath. She felt Jareth's presence behind her again and shivered as one of his hands ghosted over her hair. She felt her hair being lifted to the side and a soft kiss on the side of her neck.

"So impatient," she chided him, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She felt as if she should be bewildered by his behaviour - after all, for all he knew she was a strange girl that he'd never met before and he certainly wasn't thinking of 'his Sarah' whilst he was pawing at her, but she was too used to fae displays of affection, too eager to accept his attentions on her person.

"..._First and foremost, I must announce __my abdication of the throne of Fallonia, and the ascension of my previously named successor; Lady Sarah of the Labyrinth..."_ Mirielle looked around and couldn't see Sarah, so she went on, "_My apologies, I don't know where she's gotten to..." _

Sarah felt Jareth stiffen behind her and couldn't help but smile. He clearly still hadn't made the connection.

"..._my son's betrothal. Jareth, could you come up here for a moment?" _

Jareth gave her a tight smile and made his way through the whispering crowd of courtiers. He clenched his jaw and glared at his mother. "Lady Sarah of the Labyrinth is your successor, is she?" he asked her in a scarily polite tone, "How _quaint. _And where might _Lady Sarah _be hiding?"

Mirielle's lips twitched in a smile. "Where is the lady that you have plighted your troth to? I assume you have told her of your plans."

Jareth looked around and he couldn't help but smile when his eyes fell on Sarah. He reached out a hand to her and the fae seperated to form a pathway between Sarah and Jareth. She walked slowly to him, trying to fight the smile from her face.

"Yes," Jareth replied sharply, still angry and confused. "Though I have yet to discover her name."

Sarah ascended the steps to the dais, curtseying demurely in front of Jareth and then in front of his mother. Mirielle moved around to untie Sarah's mask and Sarah reached up to hold the mask in place until the last possible moment.

"Jareth," Mirielle said, casting a worried glance at her son, "May I introduce you to your betrothed and my successor; Lady Sarah of the Labyrinth, Queen of Fallonia and the future High Queen of the Underground."

Sarah let the mask fall and turned to face Jareth, her eyes ablaze with an emotion that he could not name.

Jareth stared at her, taking in her more angular face, the markings over her eyes, her sharper teeth, her brighter eyes. He thought back to their brief conversation and could not believe that he hadn't noticed the accent, the hair, even her scent suddenly provoked memories that he'd locked away in a chest in his mind. He opened and closed his mouth, and some of the guests 'aww-ed' at his ogling of his betrothed.

He was having difficulties combining the two personas; his mother had described a mortal turned powerful fae heiress, named her as 'Lady Sarah of the Labyrinth', and yet here stood Sarah, _his __Sarah_, but with fae markings on her face and a more womanly figure. (And what a figure it was. A delicious bosom offered up to the eyes by the corsetting of her dress, a narrow waist, hips that fitted the hour-glass of her body perfectly. Other than her feminine attributes, her frame was thin and willowy; long slender arms, a perfectly flat stomach... He couldn't see her legs - the tulle of the dress covered them - but she seemed four or five inches taller, leaving her overall appearance rather elfin.)

He just couldn't process it.

"All hail Sarah, Queen of Fallonia," Mirielle called out, her eyes also on Jareth.

"Hail," Jareth ground out, his eyes never leaving Sarah.

The blessing was called throughout the ballroom and Sarah blushed prettily, lowering her eyes and curtseying again to the nobles.

"I thank you," she began, a nervous smile dancing around her lips, "I am sure we shall all meet again soon - after all, there is a wedding to plan."


	3. Chapter 3

**Lemon below. Kind of, anyway.**

* * *

The applause died down and gradually the fae court went back to their drinking and dancing. Sarah felt the pressure of a hand on her shoulder and looked over to Mirielle's worried expression.

"Would one of you mind explaining to me what the bloody hell is happening?" Jareth asked calmly, looking between Sarah and his mother with eyes that were too bright. "Now, if you please."

"Let's allow your mother to tell the story, shall we?" Sarah suggested with a challenging, expectant glance at Mirielle. She nudged her head in Jareth's direction and nodded to prompt her future mother-in-law into beginning.

"Perhaps somewhere more private?" Mirielle said, aware that they were still standing on the dais. "The throne room, perhaps?"

...

Jareth sat down on his horned throne and crossed his legs, his right ankle on top of his left knee. Mirielle grimaced at the sight of his tense posture. Sarah gave a swish of her hand and nodded in satisfaction when a chair materialized in front of her. Jareth stared at her casual display of magic open mouthed, still not used to the idea that she was, in fact, a magical being.

She gave him a wry look and snorted at his expression.

"Mother," Jareth instructed in a clipped tone, not taking his eyes from his betrothed, "Please make this quick."

Mirielle wrung her hands. "I watched Sarah defeat you all those years ago. I saw the genuine love in your heart and I saw the hope in hers. She sacrificed her deepest desires for her brother's freedom."

Jareth allowed his gaze to flicker over to his mother, but it was Sarah's face that he was interested in. He furrowed his brow as she nodded slowly, corroborating his mother's tale.

"Because Sarah overcame the Labyrinth, she was gifted with its power, its magic. She was unconsciously able to maintain a portal between our separate planes of existence – it speaks volumes for her strength that she did it for three years without faltering. I know this to be true; I monitored it." Mirielle glanced hopelessly at Sarah. "One night, a month before Sarah's eighteenth birthday, I was watching her sleep. She was dreaming and she... well... she said your name, Jareth."

Sarah flushed a little but didn't interrupt. Jareth continued to watch her, fascinated by her reactions.

Mirielle rolled her eyes at her son's rapture, but went on, "I watched more closely after that; she dreamt of you often, she said she loved you, she even _wished_ for you a couple of times in her sleep. On the eve of her 18th birthday, at midnight, the portal between our worlds was strengthened by the sudden maturity of her magic. It was in that instant that I was able to slip my guards into her room. I stole her away," she admitted softly, "Or, rather, I stolea version of her away. I took the half of Sarah which had dreams and desires, the half of Sarah who was never able to let go of her adventures in the Under. The _other_ half of Sarah, the half of Sarah that wanted to get a job, get married, have children and buy a house... She still exists up there."

"Are you serious?" Sarah blurted out, "You've never mentioned that before."

Mirielle nodded. "I am not so cruel as to kidnap you from your family's home with no explanation for them. They will never miss you because you are not gone. You exist in both planes." She looked up towards Jareth. "I discovered that Sarah is the vessel for the magic of the Labyrinth. What was once sentient now exists – _within Sarah_. It has a voice, an opinion which usually makes itself known when you have a runner, or something happens within its boundaries that angers its spirit."

"We were having supper one night and I suddenly started shouting about somebody peeing on me," Sarah supplied, her eyes fixed on the floor, "It took a lot of work on your mother's part to figure out what the hell was happening to me."

"Interesting," Jareth murmured. "Continue, please, mother."

"I have trained Sarah to be a Queen. Used my own magic to mould her into a powerful creature that is worthy of being at your side, Jareth. I gave her a title, a dowry, a kingdom."

"_Why_?" Sarah asked, fiddling with her nails. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I love my son," Mirielle replied vehemently, "I would do anything to make him happy."

"Why did you keep it from me?" Jareth murmured, leaning forwards to catch hold of a tendril of Sarah's hair. He wound it and unwound it around his finger, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb.

"You would have objected." It was Sarah who spoke up now, looking directly at him for the first time since the unmasking. "If she had told you what she had done, you would have made her send me back."

A sudden feeling of dread settled in Jareth's stomach. "Did you know about this?" His mother lying to him he could almost handle – she was his mother, lying to her children was part of her job description – but he wouldn't be able to forgive Sarah lying to him. "Did you know what she was planning?"

"No," she replied quietly, her gaze lifting to meet his. "I didn't."

"Sarah was the pawn in the game," Mirielle defended, "She only found out that you were my son when you approached her in the ballroom. She had no idea." She glanced up at the clock. "We have guests and us being in here, closeted away, is not at all socially acceptable. There is still your dance with Sarah to go, Jareth, and the formal toasts."

Sarah licked her lips. Jareth's eyes followed the movement.

Mirielle sighed. "Come."

...

Mirielle re-entered the ballroom ahead of Jareth and Sarah, and she could not help but smile when the former escorted the latter inside. He had a painful look on his face and Sarah was barely containing a smirk.

When they reached the middle of the ballroom, Jareth took a step back from her and bowed. "A dance, my lady?" he said mockingly, extending a hand to her.

Sarah curtseyed and took the hand. She exhaled in a sharp breath as Jareth pulled her roughly against him, holding her too tightly than was proper in this kind of dance.

"How shall we play this, Sarah-mine?" Jareth asked her, his voice soft and dangerous, "Shall I be the villain and you the heroine? That's our usual pattern, isn't it?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "I'd much rather we start over."

"And why is that?"

"Because you don't want me as your enemy, Jareth," she whispered in his ear, her lips grazing the lobe. "I have more money than you, a larger kingdom, and more educated subjects, an army thrice the size of yours, your mother's blessing, my own magic and my own crown." She leaned back to look at him levelly. "Not to mention that the spirit of the Labyrinth now lives within me. You need me, King of the Goblins, whether you like it or not. And this time, I'll be the one with the riding crop."

Jareth stared at her for a moment and then swiftly leaned in. "Naughty girl," he drawled, "I like it."

"You have no idea," Sarah said, looking up at him from under her lashes as he spun her. "I'm not the little girl you used to know, Jareth. I'm stronger than she was."

He reached up to touch the markings above her eyes. "I can see that."

She flinched as his fingertips grazed over the raised silvery lines.

"Do they still burn?" He enquired softly, and she shook her head.

"Just sensitive," she replied with a non-committal shrug. "Hurt like a bitch when they came out, though."

Jareth laughed quietly. "I am sure."

"We are to be married, then?"

"If that is what you desire..." Jareth murmured cautiously, "I have pledged myself to you. You have nothing to fear from me, Sarah."

Sarah leaned back to look into his eyes. "You didn't even know who I was and you agreed to marry me: why?"

"Because I knew you were different," he whispered, "I didn't know that you were _you_, but you were the first woman in thirty years to make me want to forget. That was enough."

"And now? Do you still want to forget?" Her eyes fell away from his and he felt her muscles tense beneath his grasp.

"Never," he swore, stilling their movements and bringing them to a halt amongst the other spinning couples. "Now that I have you again, I am not planning to let you go." He started to move them again and Sarah shivered at the feel of his hot breath on her skin. "No matter how much you scream, no matter how much you _beg_..."

Sarah exhaled shakily. "Screaming and begging, hmm?"

Jareth chuckled darkly at her reaction. "Are you afraid, little Sarah-mine?"

Biting her lip, Sarah lowered her lips to his ear. "Not at all, _Majesty;_ more like intrigued to see if you do, in fact, live up to your reputation." Her hand snaked down his chest and to his breeches, and Jareth jolted when she cupped his erection through his trousers. "One can only hope," she purred, curling her hand around him and digging her nails in lightly, her thumb resting on the head and rubbing small circles into the clothed sensitive flesh. "...And so far, so good." She squeezed her hand around him.

"Sarah," Jareth warned, lust flaring in his eyes.

"Yes?"

"Surely you know enough of fae culture to know that, as per the betrothal agreement, I cannot bed you until our wedding night?"

Sarah smiled slyly at him. "Of course I do."

"Then cease this torment," he hissed, wrenching her hand away from him and placing it on his shoulder. "I can be cruel, Sarah. Do not test me."

"You think you know of cruelty?" Sarah murmured against his lips, "I will _show_ you cruelty, if that is what you desire."

Rising to the challenge, Jareth's hand on her back slid down to her bottom. He squeezed her rear and Sarah resisted the urge to groan. "I would like to see you _try_."

"I had three years of life after I defeated you, Jareth," she whispered hotly, "Three years of _teenage_ life with _teenage_ boys with _teenage _hormones. Aren't you even a little _curious_?"

Jareth gasped as images appeared before his eyes. _Sarah in the arms of a dark haired boy, her mouth being ravished by his, her body pinned against a wall by his. In the vision, Sarah threw back her head and moaned as the boy nibbled on her neck, his hands trailing along her torso and under her t-shirt, lifting the object over her head. Mortal hands cupping her breasts, a mouth descended to tug a nipple into its mouth. Sarah moaning with pleasure as her jeans were pulled down her legs, fingers pressing against her centre... _

"Enough," Jareth ground out, his eyes flashing with anger and jealousy, "Enough."

"Don't you want to know how it felt?" Sarah continued, pressing her form against him wantonly, "His hands on my skin, his lips on mine..." The vision was exactly that – a vision, it hadn't happened and was simply a figment of Sarah's imagination, but Jareth didn't need to know that.

Jareth glared at her, tightening his grip on her body until Sarah felt the pain. "Enough," he growled, "I will see no more."

"But you will," Sarah promised. She knew exactly what she did to him, and the knowledge made her feel powerful, confident in her place in his heart. "Should I replace him with you, Jareth? Give you a glimpse into the future?"

Jareth's expression changed into one of lust, and he ground his hips against her. She laughed breathlessly at the feel of his hardness against her thigh, smiling evilly at him.

_Jareth sat on his throne, riding crop in hand. Sarah entered and crossed the room, curtseying low before her king. She wore a sheer black dress that clung to her every curve, making it painfully clear that she was bare beneath the dress. "How my I serve you, Majesty?" Sarah asked, kneeling before him and placing her hands on his thighs, her fingers inching up towards the top of his breeches, apparently needing no answer..._

Jareth was enraptured by the vision of her submissive display, and Sarah smirked when his hot gaze returned to her own. "I could make it come true," Sarah whispered, relishing in the feel of Jareth's gloved hands suddenly clutching her to him. "You gave me a choice, once; a choice to let you rule me and receive your love in return." She looked up at him and he was astonished to see the fire in her eyes. "I don't _want_ to be ruled, Jareth. I want to be challenged, I want to _battle_. I am a Queen; I deserve nothing less."

Jareth could resist her no longer.

He captured her lips in a bruising kiss, relishing Sarah's surprised moan of pleasure. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers tangled in his wild mane of hair, her nails scratching along his scalp.

Sarah opened her mouth and deepened kiss, sweeping her tongue along the crease of his lips. She shuddered; he tasted like magic - metallic, sweet and sharp - like _raw power_. She gasped as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip, tightening her grip on his hair to cause him pain. One of his hands lay against the small of her back, moulding her body into his, and the other traced ancient patterns against her heated skin. Along her arm, her chest, her face, cupping her cheek and raking through her hair.

It was he who pulled away, leaving her breathless.

"My, my, _little Sarah_, you have become quite the temptress," he growled at her, the hand on the back of her dress climbing up until it rested on her bare skin.

"_Queen Sarah,_" she corrected with a smirk and a harsh tug on his hair, "Queen of Fallonia, Queen of The Goblin Realm and High Queen of the Underground." She looked at him from under her lashes, "Or had you forgotten?"

* * *

"Has she been claimed?" Jareth asked his mother, almost delirious in his longing to mate with the girl.

"She is a virgin. Unmated in every sense of the word," his mother replied softly. "You will be kind to her," she instructed, "Or face her wrath."

"_Her_ wrath?" Jareth drawled, "How _terrifying._"

"Do not underestimate her, Jareth. She is strong – stronger than I, easily matching your own strength – I would hate for her to break you."

* * *

She stared at her own reflection in the mirror, her eyes focussing and unfocussing on every little detail of her appearance.

She was every inch a Queen; her red gown, her pearly white fingernails, her flawless creamy skin. Her hair had been piled into a riot of curls atop her head, a black halo that waited to be anointed with a crown.

Sarah smiled and traced her tongue over her sharp teeth, reaching up to touch the smooth expanse of her neck with her gloved fingers.

He wanted to mark her there, she knew. She had seen it in her dreams.

She wasn't at all surprised when a sudden gust of wind into her chambers announced his arrival, and she shivered when she felt his lips following the path that her fingers had traced along her nape.

"Beautiful," he murmured, almost breathless at the sight of her resplendent appearance. Even without the official Fallonian title, she was regal, _royal_, and Jareth felt her pulse quicken beneath his soft kisses.

Sarah reached up behind her and held him there, pressed against her back. "We have doors," she pointed out with a smirk, her contented sigh at his gentle touch betraying the mirth in her voice.

"I prefer windows," Jareth responded smoothly, turning her in his arms. "Now, my little Sarah, let us crown you a Queen."

...

He had been the perfect escort; holding her arm, walking beside her rather than in front - as was still his right as the High King to her lowly Queen - adjusting her crown, pouring her wine, serving her food from his own plate, giving her chaste kisses on her palms, wrists, cheeks... And it was driving her wild. For underneath his gentlemanly exterior lurked a smirking deviant, a lustful beast that tempted her, almost _mocked_ her growing desire.

By the time they had arrived back at her royal apartments in the Grande Fallonian Palace, she was in an impassioned rage.

He opened the door to her bedchamber and bowed lowly to her, bidding her a formal and polite 'goodnight'. Sarah stared at the top of his head for a moment and then grabbed ahold of his hair, dragging him forcefully into the room with her, slamming the door behind them both.

She pulled him halfway to her bed by his golden mane and shoved him to the floor, standing above him with her furious eyes locked on his.

Jareth glared up at her, three parts shocked, aroused, and incredibly angry. "How dare you..."

"Shut _up_," Sarah hissed, pushing him down again when he tried to stand. "You know _exactly_ how I _dare_, you bastard. Stay on your knees and serve your Queen; consider it a penance for your abominable behaviour today."

Jareth's gaze darkened and he crawled towards her. Sarah matched his progression with backward steps of her own, flinching at the feel of his hands on her knees. He pushed her back onto her bed and took hold of one of her ankles, pressing gentle kisses to the soft skin there. She made a low noise of pleasure in her throat and he smirked against her.

Slowly drawing up her gown with gloved hands, Jareth watched his enraged little Queen fall to pieces in his grasp. When his fingers finally reached her aching centre, Sarah moaned at the feel of him finally touching her.

Jareth blew lightly against her heated flesh, watching with rapture as she shuddered beneath him. "Touch me," she demanded, tangling her fingers in his hair as he complied to her wishes. "Take off your gloves." He glanced down at his hands and then back to her face. "I didn't ask for your opinion on the matter," she quipped hotly, "Just do it."

Never breaking from her gaze, Jareth gently eased off his gloves. He raised a questioning eyebrow to her face, wondering if she actually knew what she was asking of him. To take off his gloves was to unleash the true force of his magic upon her, and when Sarah nodded he lowered his mouth to her core.

She cried out as his tongue drew lazy circles around her bundle of nerves, quivering in her longing to be penetrated. "Touch me," she whispered, her plea softer this time, almost _begging_.

He pierced her wet heat with two fingers, his force almost savage. At the feel of his raw magic caressing her core, his mouth on her bud, she screamed her sudden release, pressing his face against her with her hands and an upthrust of her own hips. Jareth groaned helplessly as her essence washed over his tongue; by the terms of their betrothal contract, they were forbidden by magical law from physically consummating their marriage until their wedding night, and Jareth was almost desperate with lust.

She rode out her orgasm in a delirious haze, wondering why they didn't bottle this feeling and sell it. She came down slowly, gasping for breath, her pulse thrumming in her neck.

Slowly, Sarah sat up, gently pushing Jareth away from her centre. "You have done your duty," she said in a shaky, challenging voice, a smirk pulling at her lips. "You may go."

Gaping at her incredulously, Jareth could only nod. He was furious, absolutely _appalled_ at her audacity to take her pleasure from him and then cruelly _dismiss him_ as callously as if he had been a servant boy, but another, much more prominent part of his mind was senseless with lust. She had exceeded all of his expectations, acting every inch the Queen that he knew she could be.

There had been no match to her; she had been a vision in her red gown, her head held high as the crown had been placed atop her head by her predecessor, her eyes flashing at him with challenge and want in their depths.

Sarah glanced at him, wondering about his next move. She rolled over and plucked a book from her nightstand, opening it to the marked page and turning her full attention to the pages. "Goodnight, your Majesty," she said, not turning back to look at him.

He had known that he was playing with fire by tormenting her with innocence throughout her coronation banquet, but he could never have imagined just how rewarding his punishment would be. _No,_ Jareth summarized, as he appeared in his own chambers, he was glad that Sarah had changed a little; he didn't want a subservient bride, he wanted what she had described. _A battle._

* * *

Sarah lay back in her bubble bath and sighed at the feel of the water caressing her skin.

In a little over four hours, she was to be married, married to _him._

Her dress was white and form hugging; a long satin and lace bodice, clinging to her every curve and reaching half over her bottom, and then a tulle fishtail that rippled when she walked, the pure colour of the dress belaying its sinful fit. White elbow length gloves, diamonds in her hair, a pearl choker around her neck.

Her army of dressers had arrived early, and Sarah sat in silence as they worked their magic. Her hair was teased into a shining ebony mane of curls, makeup used sparingly on her pale face. Her lips were painted in red, her upper eyelids outlined in black, her already thick eyelashes completing the look. She smiled as her crown was put on her head, her hair pinned becomingly around it. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, Sarah's mouth fell open at her reflection.

And it was all for him.

...

He waited for her at the sacred royal altar, his heart racing at the thought of the night to come.

By tradition, Fae weddings took place at twilight, the feast and dancing lasting long into the night. He had never married before, never met a woman other than Sarah who had made him think that he was _capable_ of marriage, and it made his heart glad to think that it was _she _who was the one who had finally ensnared his heart to such a degree that he wanted to pledge himself to her for eternity.

Visions of her in skimpy white satin flashed before his eyes and he held back a growl at the images that she - undoubtedly - was sending him. He was still bewildered at that aspect of her magic, still fascinated by her ability to place things in his mind. It wasn't that she had any control over him, no, but he was powerless against the visions that she all too readily offered up to him.

He heard gasps and turned to face the woman approaching him. Vaguely he registered a harp playing in the background, but all of his primary thoughts were focussed on her.

She was _magnificent_. Her crown was nestled in amongst her wild hair as if she had been born with it on her pretty head, her face concealed by the traditional sheer lace veil. Her dress, though, was his undoing. Deliciously tight to her upper thighs, satin and lace encasing her willowy frame, until ripple after ripple of white tulle belled out to the ground.

White gloves covered her hands and wrists, reaching to her elbows where they fastened in a row of tiny pearls. The only skin on show, really, was her upper arms and bare chest; it was luminescent, like untouched snow or a fresh pearl.

She made her way towards him and her breath caught in her throat.

Jareth bowed lowly to her and she curtseyed, offering her hand imperiously for him to take. He enfolded her arm inside his own and Sarah shivered at his touch, at the memory of what his touch could do to her. Jareth raised her hand and pressed a kiss to her covered palm, and beneath her veil, Sarah smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Their wedding ceremony was long and winding, as was the fae custom, their vows of fealty, loyalty and love to one another covering every possible eventuality.

Sarah felt as if she should be paying more attention to what she was swearing herself to, but all her mind could focus on was her up and coming wedding night.

She bit her lip when he pulled off the glove from her left hand, his own bare fingers teasing her own sensitive digits. He pressed a kiss to her ring finger before sliding on the wedding band, and she repeated the motion with the ring that she'd had made for him. They were magical rings – rings that bound them together, sealed them as _one_ as opposed to a pair – cut from the same gold, moulded in the same forge, set with the same jewels. Hers was slightly daintier than his; a thinner band, smaller jewels, but it was perfect. He intertwined her fingers with his and Sarah exhaled sharply at the feel of their magic connecting, joining, _mating_ in the air around them.

Jareth's hand was hot above hers, and when he leaned in to lift her veil and seal their union with a kiss, she melted under his touch, half falling into his arms as her knees grew weak beneath her.

"How are you feeling?" he murmured against her lips, and Sarah shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes burning into his.

"Anticipant," she breathed, feeling more like her fifteen year old self than ever in that moment, "And annoyed."

"Annoyed?" Jareth parroted, smirking at her flustered expression, "Whatever for?"

She leaned towards him further, her lips resting beside his ear. "I don't want to sit through a banquet now. I want to go to bed." She pressed a kiss to his earlobe and curtseyed before him. "Now, if my lord and _husband_ will excuse me, I must pay my respects to your family."

He watched her depart with a devious smirk; little minx had no idea what she was toying with. He wasn't about to let her control him tonight as she had done on the night of her coronation, but he was very much looking forward to the challenge of cajoling her into submitting to him.

...

Sarah sat back on her ornamental throne, sipping her wine and enjoying the slightly drunken buzz that hummed in her veins. She needed the drink as a painkiller, as something to sooth her nerves and fears. Though she was rather pleased with how things had happened – she had her own country and a husband – she couldn't help but feel twinges of regret that her father hadn't been there to walk her down the aisle, that Toby hadn't carried the wedding rings up to the altar, that her mother hadn't been there to see her get married. But then she looked around, looked at all of the people gathered in their palace to celebrate the union of two powerful realms and the joining of their hearts – she wouldn't admit that she loved him, not yet anyway – and sighed happily, feeling content in herself.

"...I hate her," a voice snarled to her left, "Look at her, sitting on _my_ throne, drinking _his_ wine like she owns the place."

Sarah's eyes flickered up and she met the gaze of a red haired fae woman. The woman was undoubtedly beautiful, with large breasts and wide hips but still slender, and she clenched her teeth as she was forced to courtesy to her Queen.

Sarah gestured that the woman should approach her, and smirked when the red head scowled but was compelled by magical law to obey.

"You," Sarah said, "Who are you?"

"Elena, The Duchess of Griolan," the woman replied smartly, "I _was_ the Goblin King's companion, up until recently."

Sarah straightened in her throne and raised an eyebrow. "His whore, you mean?"

The woman looked murderous. "In a manner," she muttered, her face colouring red at the insult. "He called it _love_, he wanted to claim me, and yet he married another."

"He is a King," Sarah pointed out, sipping at her wine, "_You _are a nothing."

"You were a _nothing_, once upon a time," the red head hissed, "A _mere_ mortal, a _weak_ little human. We don't forget about your pathetic past quite so readily, _Majesty. _And we do not forgive you for it."

"Then it is lucky that it is not up to you to forgive me," Sarah said with a shrug. "Your father swore his fealty to me, as did your brothers, uncles, cousins... And you spoke of me sitting on your throne; tell me, is there a throne big enough to sit your large backside on? I must admit that you do not seem like Jareth's usual type... You are a little_ rounder_ than he prefers. His Majesty's past bedmates are of little consequence to me, in any case." The Queen stood and approached her now-shaking subject, staring her dead in the eyes. "But if I _ever_ hear of you speaking in such terms of my _husband_ again, I will wipe you from the face of the planet. Do not seek to covet what is mine. I will tear your limbs from your body with my bare hands. I will cut your throat with my wedding ring and bathe in your blood," Sarah promised her, her voice low and deadly. "For the King is mine, and mine alone."

"Not without a blood claim," the woman ground out, "Not without your mark on him."

Sarah brushed off this comment. "That will be rectified shortly." She smiled down at the shorter woman. "You do not intimidate me, _Duchess _of Griolan. I am your Queen, and you will bow to me." Expectantly, Sarah raised an eyebrow, the weight of her gaze pushing down on the back of the Duchess until she was knelt at her feet. "You may as well stay on your knees; I am sure you have many men to service this night."

"Yes, your Majesty," the Duchess whispered angrily, "I will not forget our conversation."

"See that you don't," Sarah replied with a smile, "For I will remember. And take me at my word, little Duchess; I am not a merciful woman."

...

He watched her exchange with the red head gleefully, watched Sarah tower over the woman – whose name he couldn't remember – and saw the underlying anger in Sarah's position. He allowed himself to be swept into a dance by another lady, smirking at the young woman's flustered expression when he winked at her.

His smirk was wiped from his face, however, when one of his taller cousins pulled Sarah into a dance.

His lips pressed into a thin line as she laughed heartily at his jokes, as she spun around with his kin.

It took him less than two minutes to interrupt the dance, and when he did, he growled at her.

"What is your game, pretty thing?" he murmured into her ear, "Do you seek to make me jealous?"

"If that is what I seek then clearly I have succeeded," Sarah replied, smirking when he tugged her away from the dancing nobles and into a dark corner of the room, "Why, Jareth? Do you not like to see me with others?" Her innocent expression was betrayed by the fire in her eyes.

"Do not test me," he hissed at her, his hands tight on her waist as he pressed her against the wall, "I am not one to be toyed with."

Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. Her right hand clenched and she pulled on the blonde locks hard enough to cause pain. "I have met your whore," she said, her eyes darkening with anger.

"Which one?" Jareth sneered, "There are many here tonight who have shared my bed."

She pulled harder on his hair, drawing his face down. "You will not stray from me," she whispered softly, "For if you do, I will make your life a living hell."

"And how would you do that?" Jareth replied with a leer, glancing down at her heaving chest.

_Sarah writhed on the bed, her head thrown back in ecstasy as a hard masculine body pressed down upon her. "Yes," she cried out, "Yes, there." _ _The man lowered his head to her breasts and suckled, and Sarah arched her back in an effort to pull him closer..._

"Enough," Jareth spat, "I have seen enough."

Sarah smiled at him lazily. "You fail to see, King of mine, that _I do _have a power over you that no other has; I have your heart. I have always had it, and I _want_ to cherish it. I want to worship you, to wipe the memories of other women from your mind and replace them with thoughts of myself. But should you betray me," she gave another tug on his hair, "I will crush it. And then I will send in my armies to destroy your kingdom. My people are ambitious... they will not object to any war I seek to wage."

Jareth growled at her. "You dare to speak of such things on our _wedding night_?"

"Do you think I am happy about this?" Sarah hissed, "Do you think it is nice for me to know that you have bedded half of the women here?" Her angry facade slipped and Jareth saw the vulnerability underneath, "When I... I am not as experienced as they are."

His temper was alleviated, like vapour being blown away on a wind. He cupped her face in his hands. "It is you that I love, Sarah. That already puts you above them in my estimation."

"The woman... she spoke of you wanting to claim her."

Jareth shook his head slowly. "Never, in my long life, have I wanted to claim _anyone_. Until you."

Sarah felt the heat build inside her and bit her lip. "Then what are you waiting for?"

...

They were guided to his chambers with an entourage of nobles, his blushing mother among them.

The chamber was anointed as the 'fruitful heart of royal love' and Sarah rolled her eyes at the dramatics.

Jareth was quick to usher them all out, allowing his mother to give him a quick peck on the forehead, and when he turned to Sarah, she was standing on the balcony, gazing down at their now-joined kingdoms.

"The borders have shifted," she said quietly, sighing at the cool breeze.

"So soon?" Jareth asked, "It usually takes weeks for the realms to realign."

Sarah shrugged, closing her eyes and leaning her head back when she felt Jareth's arms wrap around her from behind. "I think it depends on the magical strength of the monarch."

"You are a Queen now," Jareth whispered in her ear, "_My_ Queen."

"Yes," Sarah replied softly, sm,iling at the feel of his lips on her skin. "And you are my ruler." The words hung between them, and Jareth's eyes grew dark at the meaning behind them. "You have always been my ruler," Sarah admitted, "Even when I was a fifteen year old girl and I was terrified of you, you were my ruler."

"I thought I had no power over you," Jareth murmured, the tension thick between them.

Sarah shivered. "I lied." Her breath came in a wild gasp as Jareth bit down on her neck, not hard enough to make the claim but certainly enough to leave a mark. She turned to face him, thoroughly enjoying being pinned between him and the balcony. "You will take me here later," she told him breathily, her fingers crawling along his chest, "But I would claim you first." She smirked at the lust in his eyes and the set of his jaw. Sliding down to her knees, Sarah's hand came to rest on Jareth's inner thigh, no more than two inches away from his erection. "Here," she whispered, and tugged down his breeches.

His hardness sprang free and Jareth sucked in a breath at the feel of the cool night air on his length. Sarah's eyes widened in consideration; he was so _big_, and from her own exploration of her body there was no way it was going to fit inside of her.

Jareth raised an eyebrow at her expression and Sarah's mouth surrounded him instantly; she wasn't at all tentative or nervous. She grasped his balls in her hands and rolled them around betwixt her fingers, revelling in the noises that he made.

Jareth looked down at her, his cock deep in her mouth, and wondered if ever a man had been as happy as he was right then. He struggled to contain the movements of his hips, trying to remind himself that it was her first time and he should be gentle.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Sarah freed him from her grip. "Give yourself to me," she said huskily, "I want it all." She captured his length again, grazing along it with the tips of her teeth, and Jareth hissed in pleasure.

Their position was ironic, really; she on her knees, paying obeisance to him in the most carnal of ways, servicing him with her divine red lips, and yet she was also the one with the power, the control.

He thrust back against her and she moaned, taking him deep into her throat and increasing her pace. Her nails dug into the skin of his bottom and he groaned as her suction intensified.

He came with a roar, his seed releasing into her mouth and down her throat, and as soon as she had cleaned him up with her little tongue, she lowered her mouth to the spot she had spoken of and bit down into his flesh, her sharp teeth piercing his skin and drawing blood on the first bite.

It washed over her tongue and she moaned, feeling something ancient and powerful bubbling up from within her fae soul. Feeling her venom begin to penetrate his system, Jareth yanked her to her feet and returned the bite, only he chose the side of her neck, on the juncture of neck and shoulder, where it would scar and be seen. Her blood sang to him; he could taste her ecstasy, fear, longing, lust. Sarah mewled at the feel of his fangs, the sharp sting of his own poison only heightening her sense of pleasure, and she trembled against him, her fingers pulling his mouth back to hers. Their lips mashed savagely together; there was nothing beautiful or poetic about the Claim - it was brutal, painful, and for the two lovers on the balcony it was only the beginning. Their blood mixed in their mouths and Jareth was hard again in an instant.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her into his room, depositing her on the bed.

Her hands shook in his hair and he smirked against her, grasping hold of the front of her dress and tearing it down the middle. She reached for him, pulling at his shirt and clawing holes in the silk in her ardour. Her toes pushed his breeches down the rest of the way and he was hovering above her, bare and glorious. She opened her legs and wrapped them around him, locking their bodies together.

His gloved fingers teased her centre and Sarah reached down to pull the gloves off. Jareth's mouth descended on her wrists and she cried out as he tore off the white silk encasing her hands. Magic hummed in the air around them, and Sarah moaned as the head of his cock brushed against her.

She looked up and Jareth was staring down at her, his fingertips grazing along her naked body. He touched her as if she was made of porcelain, as if she would break under his hands.

Sarah placed her hands on his chest and rolled them over, smirking when Jareth's erection bobbed desperately between their bodies. He gazed up at her adoringly, cupping her breasts with gentle hands. She had had enough of waiting; reaching between them, she aligned his hardness with her wet centre and impaled herself upon it with a hard downward thrust of her hips. He broke through her barrier and she cried out, the pain only intensifying the sudden pleasure. Jareth was silent, his breath coming faster and his eyes dark in his concentration to remain still.

He had never felt a body so tight, had never imagined it would be like this.

She was like an angel above him, breathless in her triumph, and he could only watch as she rolled her hips, experimenting with pressure and friction, until she settled on a slow, grinding pace. He gave a sharp thrust of his own and was rewarded by her tortuous moan, a delicious smile on her lips as she leaned forwards to kiss him.

The speed of her movements increased and her body bowed over his; Jareth wrapped his arms around her and began to move his own hips, faster, rougher, and Sarah was delirious. Jareth's lips brushed the bite on her neck and he moaned as her muscles suddenly contracted around him, exploding in a spasm of absolute ecstasy.

"_Jareth," _she moaned, "_Oh yes!"_

He continued his movements as her orgasm washed over her, and when she stilled, he rolled them over and hiked her legs over his shoulders.

She whimpered at this new position and Jareth hesitated. "Don't you dare," she hissed, still mindless from the pleasure, "I want it all, Jareth." To emphasise her point, she reached between them and brushed her fingers against the bite mark on his thigh. Jareth jolted at her raw magic touching the wound, and was powerless against the sudden instinctual demand for _more_. His thrusts became short and sharp, his hips grinding mercilessly into hers.

She reached up and raked her nails down his chest, drawing odd spots of blood along his perfect torso.

"Oh, _God,_" she wailed, "_Yes, Jareth, God!"_

Somehow, Jareth managed to lean down enough to grasp her neck in his teeth, reopening the magical wound. He heard her scream and felt her muscles clench around him and could not hold back any longer. With one final thrust, he pushed himself into her, his own climax crashing down around him. He moaned loudly as his seed was released inside of her, collapsing beside her as he fought for breath.

They lay in silence for a while, Jareth half asleep as Sarah traced patterns along his wrist with her fingertips.

He rolled over onto his side to gaze into her eyes. "I love you," he said quietly, the sincerity in his tone knocking her off balance.

She stared back at him for a moment, feeling move vulnerable than she ever had. "I love you too." she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and climbed out of their bed.

"Where are you going?" Jareth asked her, feeling slightly wounded at her abandoning him but thoroughly enjoying the sight of her sashaying towards the balcony.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder and shrugged, a smirk gracing her lips. "I told you I wanted you out here, didn't I?"

* * *

"Does this ever end?" Sarah wondered absently, sighing at the ache in her thighs.

"Does what ever end?"

She leaned up to look at him, rolling her eyes when he glanced down to appreciate the cleavage she had just created. "_This_. Wanting you. All the time."

"It will never end for me," Jareth swore, rolling her onto her back and settling between her thighs. He nudged her knees wider and pressed the head of his cock to her opening. "It will never end for me, Sarah." He thrust into her then, and she arched her back off the bed, feeling the delicious stretch of her nethers.

He made love to her slowly, worshipfully, and when they reached a mutual earth-shattering climax, he kissed away the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes.

"My little Queen," he said lovingly, "My little Sarah."

* * *

Sarah was crowned High Queen of the Underground in a lavish ceremony a couple of weeks after their wedding. She was given her crown by the Dowager High Queen - Jareth's mother - and smiled at the older woman as she knelt before her.

"All hail Queen Sarah, High Queen of the Underground," Jareth called out, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck. "Long life and happiness to her."

His blessing was called throughout the Palace, and bells were rung to announce her ascension.

Afterwards, Jareth drew his wife to one side. "I have a gift for you."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "What kind of gift?"

"One that you will simply _adore. _One that I will thoroughly enjoy reaping plenty of rewards for," he growled into her ear.

"My lady!" a familiar voice called from behind him, and Sarah squealed as she peeked around Jareth to see the owner of the voice.

"Sir Didymus! Ludo! _Hoggle!"_

_"Your Majesty!"_ Didymus crowed, bowing lowly before her, nudging Ludo to do the same. "It is _most wonderful_ to see you again."

"Most wonderful," Hoggle echoed sullenly, his eyes fixed on the mark on Sarah's neck. "Are yer with _him_ now then?" He jabbed a figure at Jareth, and Jareth stiffened.

Sarah laid a hand on Jareth's chest and pushed him backwards a little. She opened her mouth to reply, but Jareth cut her off.

"Married, actually," he said a little smugly, lowering his lips to the bite mark and smirking when Sarah shivered in spite of herself. "Why, is that _jealousy_ I see in your eyes, Hogpig?"

"_Hoggle,"_ Sarah corrected, pushing him away from her and frowning at his behaviour. "I thought... I thought you'd all be mad at me. That's why I didn't come to you."

"More like yer weren't allowed ter come," Hoggle muttered. "Are you our _Queen _now, then?"

"Yes, she is," Jareth supplied again, glancing up at the time. He turned to Sarah. "I have business to attend to. Please, enjoy." He placed a chaste kiss on her lips and smirked at the anger that was still in her eyes.

...

He'd left her alone with her friends with the idea of giving her some privacy, of giving her some time to catch up with them without him there interrupting as he often did, but _she_ would not allow him any time away from her.

From the minute he turned to walk away, the images had flashed before his eyes.

_Their wedding night... Sarah taking him into her mouth... Sarah making her claim... Sarah's feelings as Jareth had made his... _

He had been mindless with lust for over three hours when she finally entered his office, wearing a thin silk dress that clung to her body. "Did you miss me?" she asked him with a knowing smirk, approaching him with confidence. She had tied her hair up with a ribbon, baring her neck and displaying her mark.

"You know I did," Jareth responded, his voice low and dangerous. He stalked across his office and picked her up, depositing her roughly down on his desk. "You were very naughty today," he murmured, his fingers struggling with the buttons on the back of the dress. She leaned back on her elbows, moving the fastenings out of his grasp, and looked him up and down.

Her eyes focussed on his throbbing erection and she licked her lips. "Are you going to punish me, your Majesty?"

Jareth yanked her to her feet and spun her round, pulled her rear into sharp contact with his hardness. "I might." He shoved her down over the desk, drawing her dress up her thighs with gloved hands. She moaned as his covered fingers entered her from behind, writhing as he pinned her down with the other hand. "I rather like you like this," Jareth drawled, leaning over to speak into her ear, "Powerless, submissive, at my mercy."

"We both know I'm not powerless, darling," Sarah hissed in reply, feeling strong ropes of magic bind her to the desk, "We both know that I'm the one in control here, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not."

He bunched her dress around her waist and leaned over her to reach his riding crop, relishing in Sarah's excited shiver as she saw what he was doing.

"We'll see about that, precious," Jareth whispered, a sudden 'snap' filling the air as he brought it down hard on Sarah's rear. She grunted in pain, gritting her teeth against it, and then moaned when Jareth's cool hands soothed the sharp sting. "Aren't you going to count, Sarah? I'm going to spank you eight times - once for every naughty little vision you have so kindly placed in my head today."

"One," she ground out, every bone in her body electrified by anger and lust.

"You almost missed it," Jareth pointed out with a smirk, bringing his crop down again, harder this time.

"Two," Sarah coughed, flinching at the feel of it. She was wonderfully aroused by him taking control of her and it was making it hard to concentrate.

Another 'smack' sounded and Sarah hissed. "Three." Two more followed in quick succession. "Four. Five." Sarah fought against the restraints, trying to focus enough to break out of the magical hold that he had over her. Her struggling allowed Jareth to catch sight of her glistening centre, and she relished in his groan.

"Oh, yes, you are being _very_ naughty today," he crooned in her ear, "And apparently you are enjoying your punishment far too much."

His crop hit her again, but between her legs this time. She cried out at the friction and arched her back, finally managing to breach his magic. "_Six,_" she spat, trying to pull her arms apart.

"You almost missed it," Jareth remarked, using his crop again.

Sarah moaned in pleasure this time, her head falling down onto the desk with a defeated thud. "Seven."

"Only one more," he promised her, tapping her centre a final time.

"Eight," Sarah whispered, closing her eyes at the delicious burn the crop had left.

She moaned loudly as he suddenly filled her. His magic on her ceased, but his hands gripped her hips and kept her held over the desk. She reached out and gripped hold of the wood to keep herself still.

He was rough and punishing, taking all he wanted from her. Her thoughtless cries of pleasure spurred him on and he grabbed hold of her hair, arching her back against him. "Do you like this?" He hissed in her ear, "My using your body like a toy?"

"_Fuck you_," Sarah moaned, shoving herself back against him.

"You know you do, precious," Jareth went on, "You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?" As if to prove a point, Jareth cruelly twisted her clit with his fingers, and she fell over the edge and into oblivion. "My beautiful little _liar._"

She somehow managed to reach beneath her body and through her legs to touch the bite mark on his leg. She scratched her sharp nails over it and laughed breathessly when Jareth released into her, biting down onto her shoulder.

"You're making it impossible for me to wear my hair up," she said with a smile, whimpering softly when he pulled out of her. She straightened and fixed her dress, reaching up to cup his face. "But I like it."

And with a swat on his rear, Sarah sashayed out of the room, leaving her baffled, speechless king staring longingly after her.


End file.
